


Covenant

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Betrayal, Beverly Katz is the Best, Courtship, Creature Fic, Even in Weird Village AUs, Hannibal Tried, I think this is really predictable, I'm kinda a shitty person and writer, Like really bad courtship, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Possessive Behavior, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Ravenstag, Someone Help Will Graham, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Weird Ass Village AU, no encephalitis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 06:04:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alana continued to stare at the shrub besides Will's right shoulder. Eventually, she muttered, "I don't like this place. It always makes me think that you're being watched."





	Covenant

The air was a bitter cold, biting sharp teeth into his skin. Will didn't make any move to return home or cover up. His breath condensed in front of him, forming a wispy cloud that glided a few centimetres away before diffusing and vanishing from sight. A thick carpet of snow covered the forest floor, broken by his footprints and the less even paw prints from his companions.

Occasionally, if they drifted too far away, he would give a sharp whistle, and they would hurry back, cautiously bumping into his legs to placate him. It wasn't often they visited the edge of the forest, encroaching upon the village. Close enough to see the form of the buildings, but far enough to remain unseen unless someone was looking for him directly.

Will noticed Alana approach a few seconds before she noticed him. Hesitantly, he raised a hand in greeting, giving an awkward wave. Alana paused for a few seconds, as though she was trying to confirm it was him, before she responded with a likewise gesture.

"Morning." Alana greeted as soon as she got close enough to be heard, tucking wayward hair behind her ear with her spare hand. She cast the forest a look, but Will couldn't read what her expression was due to his sudden focus on the floor.

"Hey." He offered a tiny smile - a twitch of the lips, to be more accurate - but he knew that Alana would understand the action for what it was. She shifted, hugging the bundle closer to her chest, watching the area warily.

"Jack was asking after you." Alana offered, eyes focused on his though he didn't glance up to meet her. He focused on the ash tree immediately to her left. He heard her sigh. "I'm _worried_ about you, Will."

"I'm fine." He muttered, crossing his arms against his chest. Alana eyed him warily, purposefully noting his appearance - bare arms and feet, equipped for nothing colder than summer. He didn't particularly feel the temperature.

Scepticism never suited Alana. "Are you?"

"I've got my dogs." He retorted, a little defensive. Alana hummed, seeming deeply unconvinced, but Will ignored this and continued. "I've got my house. I've got my health."

A silence settled between them. He shuffled, uncomfortable with the scrutiny he was placed under. Alana had never liked interacting outside of the village, but at the same time, she was stubborn, and refused to leave until it was evident that Will wouldn't compromise. Quietly, as though Will was fragile and she needed to lower her voice in case Will would shatter, she asked, "Will, when was the last time you had a conversation with a human, not including me?"

He shuffled, glancing downwards. The snow beneath him stared back, unmelting. "I don't need to talk to people."

Another shuffle. Alana adjusted the bundle in her arms, pressing it closer to her chest, tilting her head slightly. There was a slight tremor running through her frame, but she gritted her teeth against it. On occasion, she would touch her left arm, the place where Will knew the broad, grey soulmark of a sycamore would lie.

After so long in near solitude, Will often forgot that other people were far more sensitive to the weathers than he was. He considered offering her a coat before remembering that he didn't have one.

Alana met his eyes and Will quickly looked away. "You know what I'm going to ask."

"You know what I'm going to say." Will replied evenly, shifting his weight. Alana continued to watch him as steadily as she usually did, as though he was a particularly fascinating book. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

"You haven't been ready for three years." Alana retorted, letting some of her disapproval flick through her expression. Will grimaced, adjusting his gaze to land on Alana's footprints. She tried again, voice soothing. "Will. People are worried about you. I am. Jack is."

Crawford was probably more worried about his aristocratic duties as a lord than about Will's wellbeing. Alana knew this too, but she didn't correct her previous statement. "I just-"

"Need some time." Alana finished off for him. Will grimced at her tone. "My offer still stands."

"I'm not going back." Will answered firmly.

"I know." She offered her usual wan little smile, poorly covering up her disappointment. She opened her mouth to continue emphasizing her point but a slight rustling of leaves cut her off. Will dismissed it as one of his dogs diving into a particularly favoured evergreen bush, but Alana continued to stare at the shrub besides Will's right shoulder. Eventually, she muttered, "I don't like this place. It always makes me think that you're being watched."

"As opposed to being inside the village, where we  _are_ being watched." He raised an eyebrow, still keeping his gaze to the left of Alana, watching the branches of a particualrly low standing tree flick branches in agreement.

Her shoulders slumped. She shivered, gingerly passing him the bundle of supplies. Will took that as the beginning of a dismissal. With one hand, he fished out three gold coins, standing there with the metal in his palms until Alana caved in and accepted the payment. "Just - consider it, please? It isn't safe here."

"Okay." Will said and they both knew he wouldn't.

The walk home was brisk. He called his dogs after him, pausing to make sure all seven were accounted for before leading the way. A handful immediately recognized the path and would run in front, carrying out an investigation on bushes bare of leaves before returning to the main path.

Will understood Alana's reservations towards the forest; he had some himself, but by staying just a little over the outskirts, it guaranteed privacy and protection from wandering village children.

 _Enter deep into the heart forest, and you don't come back alive. If you must, remain by the sycamore boarder_. 

It was the only advice his father had bestowed to him that Will hadn't disregarded. It was a well-known fact around the village; people who pass the border come back in pieces, but never in their entirity. It was a message that the monster gave to the rest of the village. Most people were smart enough to listen.

As it was, he kept himself three metres in front of the border. The trees were kept in an eternal green, brightly displaying where the line was, and in such high consistency it was difficult to see how people were able to worm their way past.

He kicked open the door to his home. The sound of scurrying indicated that at least four of his dogs had returned, but the rest remained outdoors. Will would call them back after he unpacked the supplies that Alana brought.

Food wasn't particularly dire; he was situated right besides a lake, and regardless of how frozen it was, Will would always be able to break a hole into the ice, though living off of fish alone wasn't ideal. Alana packed various spices that Will wouldn't be able to easily find in the forest. As usual, she was thoughtful and accommodated for the lack of vegetables the winter brought.

Will smiled slightly, noting that she had also included ink, parchment and a quill. He placed it next to his bookshelf, intent on preserving the gift until he had a good idea of what to use it for.

He crossed the room back to his front door and whistled sharply. Two of three dogs returned, tails wagging happily. He quickly did a number check before sighing, stepping back out into the snow. "Buster, come on."

A few of his dogs tried to follow after him, so he shut the door behind him, taking care not to hit any of them. Buster was sat at the base of an oak tree, ears flat against his head. He made no noise or movement to indicate that Will had been heard.

Sighing, he scooped him into his arms, ignoring the wriggles of protest he got in response. For a second, Will passed a glance over the area, wondering if he had found predator tracks but the search was inconclusive. He adjusted his arms so that Buster was settled more comfortably, and made his way back into the shack.

The rest of the day passed slower than usual. Moments like this, after taking with Alana and being given the chance to feel normal, always caused him to crave contact, despite the fact that he was content with his intentional isolation. The forest at night was filled with shadows of bared branches waving and the occasional skitter of a hare, or other small game.

Will stayed inside his house for the most part. Fishing required patience - far more than he was inclined to give at this moment, and would only serve to agitate him further. Drawing demanded focus and attention to detail. Will would be lucky if he could muster half of the required aspects.

He already missed talking to Alana, even if all she would do was try to persuade him to return to the village despite the fact that he certainly was not welcomed there. The rest of the day was spent indoors, ignoring the outside world.

It made him feel nomal.

As night approached, he blew out the lanterns, walking over to his makeshift bed that was beginning to feel less makeshift after three years. His dogs were close on his heel, following after him and Will only half-heartedly admonished them.

He was able to steal a handful of hours for sleeping before the inevitable nightmare shook him awake. When he woke, he groaned, shifting over and raising his hand to his temple.

Without much ceremony, he got to his feet. Attempting to fall back to sleep would be a completely useless endeavour, so he started to carry out his morning routine. Rather bitterly, he mused that morning routine wasn't as accurate as just-after-midnight routine.

He lit a lantern, and opened the door to his shack, allowing his dogs to hurdle out. He stood and watched them to the best of his abilities, though the night was difficult to see through. He cast a glance around the area, noting the fresh coat of snow that had been unblemished until now.

Will's eyes paused over a shadow that was spilled against the white canvas of snow. He blinked, trying to identify what it was - antlers? It had been a long time since he had last seen deer, since his signs of habitation and the scent of his dogs warned any prey off. The only wildlife that ever bothered him were predators. He frowned, looked up to where it was directed, only to find no causation. He looked back down only to find the shadow was gone.

Feeling distinctively unsettled, he called his dogs back in and took care to latch his door. Animals didn't move within the blink of an eye, nor did they move so soundlessly that none of his dogs had reacted.

He tried to ignore it, dismissing it as a strangely shaped tree or bush, setting his lantern down and retrieving the parchment that Alana had given him. Before, when he was still a recognised member of their village, Alana had said that she had liked the way he drew. The memory was warm even if Will firmly believed he wasn't good at it.

He decided to draw a sycamore tree.

Soon afterwards, he threw it away.

When the sky turned brighter, he let out his dogs again, though this time he paid close attention to the border. Nothing indicated a repetition of earlier, so Will decided to disregard it completely and call the dogs back in. It was only when he closed the door did he realise that he was missing one.

With a grimace, he reopened the door, closing it over so that no other dogs could escape. He whistled sharply, but there was no barked reply from Zinnia, or the sound of her paws against snow. He glanced around, raking a tired hand through his hair, stepping forwards to gain a more accurate view.

He whistled again, approaching slowly, hand raised in an automatic attempt to calm the dog. As soon as he stepped close enough to reach for her, she jerked upright, barking loudly at the sky.

"What's gotten into you?" Will snapped. He tried to gain hold if her, but failed when she darted away and continued her path straight. Straight through the border.

 _Shit_.

"Zinnia!" Will called after her. He grabbed for his hunting knife, releasing it from the holster against his leg, and hastened to hurry towards to border, eyes scanning through the cluster of long, leafy limbs.

Zinnia had disappeared.

Nausea was beginning to clog Will's throat. He didn't step past the border, pacing up and down, glancing at the tracks that Zinnia had made when she ran. If he didn't follow her, there was no doubt she would die. Her parts would be sent back to him, and Will would move, since there was no way he would let any other members of his pack die.

If he did follow, what would happen to the others? He wouldn't return to feed them, or take them on walks - but Alana could. She would go to his home when he didn't arrive for provisions, she would care for his pack and they would be safe.

He swallowed against the nausea and stepped past the line of sycamore. He carried his hunting knife in a tight, unmoving grip, following Zinnia's tracks and trying to calm his racing pulse. It was likely the creature - whatever it was - could scent fear or anxiety, so Will tried his best to level himself out.

Past the line stood what looked to be a frozen winter. Leaves still adorned the branches of trees - varied from sycamore and thinning out against birch and oak - but the heavy coat of snow remained undisturbed save from his and Zinnia's prints.

It seemed that not even wildlife survived past the border.

This thought had him gripping the knife tighter. It felt as though he was every bit a trespasser, stepping into an unscripted scene that he was not welcomed to. The silence was more than enough to keep him on guard, but his rapid observational skills - the bark freshly stripped from that birch, the sheer perfection of this place - was more than enough to make him want to turn back and never return.

Despite being unable to feel the cold, he shivered, with one prevalent thought on his mind.

_He was not welcome here._

The sooner he retrieved Zinnia, the better. Each step he took lacked purpose or direction; his only sufferance was that Zinnia's prints became more defined instead of the quick sprawl displayed whenever a dog would run. He was hyper-aware of his own breath, misting the air in front of him, of the softness of snow giving way beneath his feet.

He strained to hear something, but was only able to find the sound of his own breath.

"Zinnia?" He tried, adjusting his grip on the hunting knife. Each step he took felt as though a gaze placed on his back was becoming sharper, more intense. Against his better judgement, he turned, only to find the border staring at him in response. He took in a ragged breath. "Okay. Okay."

He hurried up his steps, unease forming a heavy and prickling motion against his chest.

A sound of movement interrupted the silence.

He jolted, spinning quickly on his heel, brandishing the knife with a distinct lack of experience. Again, unoccupied space answered his stare, but Will continued to look, the knife in his hand surprisingly steady. He was imagining things. Surprisingly, this was far more favourable than the more likely alternative; Will was being toyed with.

Wind me up and watch me go.

"Zinnia." He called again, though his voice was far quieter. Doubt began to latch onto him, clawing at his chest. What if Zinnia had already been taken? Was the chance of finding her alive worth risking his? The answer came quickly, and in the affirmative.

He took a step forward, and then another.

Another.

His breath was swiftly knocked from him. He gasped, knife falling uselessly to the floor in surprise, and his back crashed against the broad chest of an aged spruce tree. He hastened to sit upright, hand quickly going to his throat, and scrambled to regain purchase of his knife. He quickly turned, trying to find some sort of hint at what hit him, but the forest remained as empty as before.

"Just give me back my dog, and I'll leave!" Will shouted, gripping his knife and balling his hand into a fist to stop him from shaking. There was no reply, but his suspicions were confirmed; he was being watched.

Could the creature even speak his language?

What if this creature was human?

Will dismissed this thought. No human could torture people and send parts of their bodies back to grieving families, but remain unwitnessed. No human could remain trackless in the snow.

The paw prints cut sharply off.

Will stopped moving.

He couldn't feel his pulse - it was too quick to measure - but he could see how quickly his chest heaved to draw in air, he could see that, whilst his hands were steady, his arms were shaking. Again, he turned, and open space greeted him.

He turned back, only to find two maroon eyes staring back at him.

Will recoiled quickly, but didn't slash at the creature's throat. Nor did he scream, or run back in blind terror. He paused, knife still in hand, eyes remaining on the creature. Hesitantly, he lowered his hand, trying to assess the thing that stood before him. From a distance, and to an untrained eye, it looked like a stag.

Though, stags did not have maroon eyes. They did not have a uniformed, black coat or antlers that looked like it could dissect a man. Was this a lure? The creature of the forest wouldn't approach Will so directly - at least, he didn't think so, since it seemed to have so much fun fucking around with Will, playing mind tricks.

The stag watched him, too. It bowed low, displaying a sharp crown, before turning. Will faltered, hurrying after it. All signs pointed to this being a trap, but the stag was his first sign of life he had seen since stepping foot past the border and therefore his only change of finding his dog. "Wait!"

The stag paused.

Will felt part of his stomach drop, sink low enough that he felt immense foreboding unrivalled to the entry before.

Definitely a trap.

He made a show of sheathing his blade. If he was to go against whatever controlled the forest, fighting would be a last resort, especially since all he held was a blunt hunting knife. "I didn't come here to piss off - I don't know, some angry stag God - I'm trying to get my dog back, that's it."

The stag dug its front hooves against the snow. Will watched it warily.

"So, yeah. I don't want to be here either. I mean, no offence, but it's very... unwelcoming. Probably the look you're going for." Will continued, awkwardly crossing his arms before biting down sharply on his cheek. For one, the stag probably didn't give a fuck about what Will was doing here.

The stag, however, bowed again.

Will could see flicks of blood against the antlers and all he could think of was how strangely beautiful it was.

Then, the stag moved, and Will hastened to follow. If he was going to die, he wouldn't go without a fight. He didn't reach for his blade - not yet, since sheathing it had garnered what he assumed was a positive response.

The stag led him to a clearing, a broad circle of space amongst trees that certainly didn't bode well. He hesitated on the outskirts before he firmly decided that he would prefer to die here than stowed away by some trees.

Moments passed, then Will saw.

He ran forward, noting the blood staining the snow pink. He fumbled against Zinnia's fur, trying to find the source of the bleeding, but only succeeded in making his hands bloodly. Zinnia's tail gave a slight twitch, indicating her consciousness so as gently as possible, Will hoisted her up in his arms.

When he left the circle, the stag was nowhere to be seen.

The rush to the village was slowed down by the added weight in his arms. He tried to keep Zinnia as steady as possible, clutching her close against his chest, but couldn't be sure of how successful he was. The sooner he got out of the forest, the better. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to treat Zinnia's wounds by himself. For one, he couldn't even locate them, so the best thing he could do was take her to the village apothecary and pray both that the apothecary was still there, and owner could do something.

He disregarded the inquisitive stares and gasps, running down the streets with eyes focused on the road. It took him far longer than he would've liked to be able to reach the apothecary, but Zinnia was still _breathing_ , despite the fact that there was so much blood.

He barged into the apothecary. People quickly scattered at the sight of him - bare foot, wide eyed, tracking blood and snow in with him. The owner was leant against his counter, and jolted upright at the sight of him.

"The dog." Will managed to grit out, voice raw from keeping his tone level, distantly aware of him walking forward and settling Zinnia down against the counter. The man studied Zinnia with a distantly interested expression, tapping her shoulder and studying the blood stained on his fingers. Will felt his impatience boil over to desperation. "Can you help her?"

"Of course I can." The man sniffed, as though the mere thought of doubt was offensive. Will sighed heavily, shoulders sagging slightly in relief. "It should be easy."

He paused. "What knife did you use?"

Will blinked. It took him a few seconds to realise what he was implying, but when he did, his blood seemed to freeze over. His hands clenched sharply into fists. He was barely able to keep his voice from rising above a shout. "I didn't hurt her."

"I need to know the truth if I am to heal it." The man said evenly. He contined to ignore Will's protesting in favour of tracking his fingers through Zinnia's fur. Will assumed he found the source of the wound when Zinnia gave a weak growl. "It feels like a scalpel. I didn't know you had one of those."

"I don't." Will gritted out, narrowing his eyes. He resisted the urge to grab his knife or do something drastic - at least, not when he could heal his dog. "Just help her, I have money-"

The door to the apothecary slammed open. He startled, glancing upwards before his lips thinned into narrow white lines. He returned his attention to Zinnia, retrieving a pale green paste that Will couldn't identify.

"Will!" Alana's voice cut in. Will tensed in surprise, turning quickly on his heel. "What happened?"

Will quickly looked away from Alana, back to where his dog was rested against the table and the man very conspicuously listened to his answer. Gruffly, "I'll tell you later."

"It should be fine. You will have to leave it with me for an hour or so before it will be healthy enough to move." The man cut in, glancing between them. His features seemed to distort mildly in displeasure as he nodded one out of the courtesy expected. He put odd emphasis on the first word he addressed her with. "Miss Bloom."

"Mr Chilton." Alana replied coolly.

Chilton smiled blandly. He glanced down at Alana's left arm, where her soulmark would lie. With obvious lightness, he stated, "I'm glad your soulmark didn't warn everyone else against the forest. Why, some would go as far as living in it."

Alana, to her credit, didn't recoil. She gave him a thinly lipped smile, making no move to snap at Chilton. Will, however, was certainly less generous. "I'm glad yours doesn't stop you from having affairs."

This got the desired respose. Chilton's right eye twitched, and his hand automatically grazed against his own arm, where the tiny image of a solitary iberis lay, tucked in the corner. _Indifference_ , Will summarised, and supposed that some soulmates had their fate planned for them. Chilton forced a smile. "I doubt you're properly equipped to discuss soulmates."

"Come on, Will, let's go." Her hand found his arm and squeezed tightly. Wordlessly, Will followed after her, feeling as though he was betraying his dog by leaving her with Chilton.

Before he was able to step out the shop, a shoulder knocked into him roughly. A woman's voice hissed, "Born cold."

Alana's grip on his arm flexed and the expression that passed across her face was one easily recognisable as outraged anger. Will was easily able to ignore it - the woman was busy, frantic, lashing out at everyone - and the images of a tiny child, swaddled in pale blankets filled his mind. Alana took his pause for offense. "Don't pay attention to them."

"She's scared." Will muttered in response, stepping outside and away from Chilton. "Her son - pneumonia."

"Oh." Alana said softly. She glanced behind her, at the woman that had passed, before sighing. She took his hand and Will allowed her to drag him down the streets, through a road that he could very distantly recall leading to her house.

"Freak." A man muttered as he passed, glaring venomously at Will. _An unrequited bond - rare, but not unheard of - and she would never love him, not like she loved her-_

Alana turned sharply, evidently willing to snap at the man, but she glanced at Will and read thing in his expression. A flick of understanding crossed her face, and she offered a weak smile, increasing her pace quickly.

"He's got the devil in him, mark my words." An old woman croaked to her friend.

"Stay with me, Will." Alana immediately replied, tone hushed, and she continued to hurry, Will trailing after her. He grimaced, trying to follow as closely as possible when they approached her house.

He wasn't quick enough to miss a whisper. "Poor lamb. Nobody to love."

The pity was always far, far worse than the anger.


End file.
